Pastime
by Odji
Summary: Business is slow, the Undertaker is bored, and a lonely Grell goes to visit his favorite mortician! PWP


AN: THIS IS NOT MINE. As I said in Euphoria, I am posting these fics for a friend. She wrote them, but is unable to post them currently for personal reasons. With that said, she hopes that you enjoy the fic!

Pastime

Undertaker sat in his shop, boredly eating his bone-shaped cookies. Not a single guest would be arriving today - which was needless to say, very suprising. William had been the one to tip him off to this fact, saying that many reapers were taking the day off, and that Undertaker could take it easy today, as well. Even so, the mortician stayed in his shop, just in case. What if the ever-entertaining Earl and his funny butler were to stop by? Well... it wasn't likely, really. And the poor silverette was so bored without the company of fresh corpses! So very, very bored.

So bored that he was probably going to eat up his entire stock of bone-shaped cookies in one as he thought that, however, the door to his shop was flung open, revealing a splash of light and red that most certainly were not figments of his imagination.

"Un~der~ta~ker~!" sang the red reaper as he bounded across the shop and leapt at the silverette.

Caught off guard, Undertaker could do nothing but catch Grell in his arms, arching an eyebrow in confusion as the redhead made a move to kiss him. He lifted a hand instinctively, and Grell backed up, not knowing where Undertaker's hands had been, and not too eager to find out. The redhead straighted up, and dusted himself off, before giving the elder reaper a flirty look.

"I just wanted to drop by and say hello~ to my favorite mortician!" he said. Undertaker grinned.

"Ah, well thank you kindly, Miss Grell," Undertaker said. "I was just watching dust collect. But I'm certain you'd provide much better entertainment, m'dear! Do tell, is there something in particular you need?"

"Well, you see~," Grell said, "my dear William has been even colder than usual lately. It makes a girl feel horribly neglected. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, yes, m'dear, I understand," Undertaker said, reaching up and stroking through Grell's hair. "And I'm sorry I stopped you earlier - you just caught me off guard. Now, Miss Grell, if you'll follow me." Grell gladly followed as Undertaker led him to the back of the shop, and into a fairly empty room, that had only a single, incredibly dusty bed that looked as though it hadn't been touched in years. Grell wrinkled his nose.

"Um, Undertaker, darling?" he said in a sweet voice. Undertaker, who'd been moving towards the bed, looked back at the redhead in confusion.

"Yes, m'dear?"

"No," Grell said firmly. For a moment, Undertaker looked like an abuse

d puppy, when he realized that Grell was referring to the bed, not him personally, and he grinned once more.  
"Ah," he acknowledged, looking at the bed. "I could dust it off."

"And have that flying around? No, no, I think I know how to do this," Grell giggled, walking over to Undertaker and holding the silverette's shoulders, before pushing him back until he was up against a wall.

He pressed his lips against the other's, and sighed in pleasure at the unique taste on Undertaker's lips. Sweet, a little sugary - from the cookies - but with a distinct masculine feel to them. Suddenly, the red reaper was pulled closer, and he moaned loudly as Undertaker's tongue was thrust directly into his mouth. The feeling was pleasurable, and Grell couldn't help but adore it. The silverette moved forward, and turned the reaper, and Grell hardly even noticed as he became the one up against the wall. He did notice, however, when the silverette ground their hips together.

And he certainly noticed when his red jacket was skillfully taken off and thrown halfway across the room.

"Undertaker," the redhead gasped, trying to get the mortician's cloak easily swatted the other's hands away, and continued to undress Grell, much to the younger's frustration. The older ones were always like this.

Grell was stripped completely of his clothes before he even had a chance to even protest, and Undertaker gave a wide grin, kneeling before the reaper. Was this for real? No way, Undertaker would never...

All room for doubt was banished as the mortician engulfed Grell's arousal in his warm mouth, swirling his tongue around the head and grazing his teeth slightly against the length. Grell was lost to the world in that moment, stuck staring down at the one who continued to pleasure him beyond what he had once thought possible. Here was a legendary reaper, his lips wrapped shamelessly around Grell's rapidly-hardening member.

Take that, William T. Spears.

"Mm, Undertaker!" Grell moaned loudly, resisting the overwhelming urge to thrust himself down Undertaker's throat as he allowed the other to do whatever he pleased.

The redhead's moans quickly escalated, Grell no longer able to even think right with the mortician treating him in such a way. His eyes trailed down, and he lost it at last when Undertaker looked back up at him, his bangs falling aside to reveal the most gorgeous gold-and-green eyes that Grell had ever seen. He threw his head back as he moaned loudly, and Undertaker backed off with perfect timing, causing Grell's release to hit him in the face.

In his current state, Grell was certainly intending to suggest that something sexy be done with the white liquid, but before he had a chance to make his suggestion, Undertaker wiped his face off on his sleeve. "Heehee, no worries, m'dear, I clean this cloak a lot," the mortician giggled, before he caught sight of Grell's deadpan, and burst into obnoxious laughter. "Bwahahahaha! Now, don't look at me like that, Miss Grell, I was just being decent in front of the lady!"

"Decent? DECENT?" Grell repeated. Undertaker continued to laugh, before suddenly quieting and placing a finger over Grell's lips.

"Let us continue."

Every complaint Grell could have possibly had took flight, and his eyes fluttered a little as he watched Undertaker take off his hat and set it carefully on a wardrobe, before starting to remove his cloak. As the mortician undressed, Grell found himself with his gaze glued to the other's eyes, those gold-green eyes that pierced his very soul.  
And somehow, aroused him to no end.

Undertaker turned the redhead around before he had a chance to stare at the silverette's body, and there was a little shuffling as Undertaker darted from his dusty nightstand to grab something back. Soon enough, the redhead felt the other's arms lace around his waist. "Undertaker... please...," he breathed.

"Ehehe, patience is a virtue, m'dear," Undertaker husked. "You need preparation?"

Grell looked over his shoulder, and whimpered helplessly, arching back into the older's body. "Undertaker," he said, his cheeks dusted red. "I know you don't want to hear this, but you are most certainly not my first. Well... perhaps you were a while ago, I don't know, many of those nights aren't exactly spent sober. But my point is... I'm a reaper to die for, Undertaker. Don't you dare to hold back."

Suprised, the silverette ran his hands up and down Grell's sides a few times. "No foreplay, no preparation... I'm a little worried you just came to me for this. It's a touch disappointing."

"Well, I'm not too glad about it either," Grell muttered. "But I learned a long time ago that my body is my only desirable trait, so I'm just using that trait to its full poten-"

"Miss Grell!" Undertaker interrupted, astonished. "That is not true, m'dear!" The silverette yanked the redhead towards the dusty bed, and tossed Grell upon it, causing a cloud of dust to rise into the air. Grell coughed, his eyes squeezing shut, hardly noticing when Undertaker moved over him. "I think it rather silly of a beautiful lady such as yourself to underestimate your true beauty."  
"Undertaker, I-"

"Listen," the mortician hushed. "You, Grell Sutcliff, have beauty on both the outside and the inside of your body. If I didn't like your personality, I would've thrown you out the moment I found out about your intentions. It was your divine demeanor that drew me in, and your beautiful body just acted as... insurance. I love your ways of amusing me, your flamboyance, your extravagence. You truly are a reaper to die for, Miss Sutcliff. I'll give you what you came for, but please, please remember what I've just told you."

Grell would remember. He'd hang on to those words for the rest of his life, in fact, because it was the first time anyone had complimented him on something other than sex appeal. The redhead continued to cough from the dust, but both of them knew that Grell had heard what Undertaker had spoken, and the couple were also aware that this would not be the last time they saw each other in such a setting.

Undertaker spread Grell's legs, a serious, almost pouting look on his face from Grell's depressing words. His bangs fell into his face, allowing Grell's own eyes to travel down the mortician's body. Oh, dear gods, he was hot. Beneath the shapeless cloak, Undertaker was toned, slender, and ever-so very manly. Grell couldn't begin to describe how attractive his elder reaper was, regardless of the old scars that encircled his body.  
He would have to ask how Undertaker looked so good at his age.

The mortician leaned down, and Grell gave a small gasp as the lips closed around his neck. Undertaker didn't bite with his teeth, but somehow, that just made it all the more teasing. He sucked on the spot only until it was red, then backed up again, and placed a tender kiss on Grell's lips. The redhead couldn't help but hope that the sex would be more thrilling.

"Miss Grell," Undertaker said in a soft voice. "Are you ready?" Grell looked up at the silverette, and met the other's level stare, trying not to be paralyzed by the gaze as he nodded. Almost immediately, Undertaker began to enter him, and Grell seemed to sink in the bed as he feigned indifference. Undertaker's attention was caught from the start. "Miss Grell? Have you... lost intrest?" he asked.

"No, no, not at all!" Grell spoke up, before coughing into his elbow. "Just... you're being a little... slow..."

"Slow?" Undertaker repeated. "My word, Miss Grell, what's fast for you, then?"

"Well... um... faster than this," Grell said, meeting Undertaker as he sank into the redhead. "And rougher," he added.

"My lady... likes it rough?" Undertaker said, a familiar expression crossing his face. Grell recognized the look just in time to cover his ears before Undertaker bellowed out another obnoxious laugh.

"Undertaker, for the love of the gods, just move!" Grell tried (and failed) to shout over the laughter. Finally, the redhead groaned, and moved himself, and Undertaker's laughter died down into a shudder and a sigh.  
"Oh...," he whispered. "Grell..."

"Move," Grell snarled through gritted teeth.  
"Hm?"

"MOVE!" Grell nearly screamed, desperate from the strain of his own arousal and the awkward pause.

"Oh my, my lady, is it your intention to wake the corpses? You'll be successful at that rate, I'm afraid," Undertaker giggled, but before Grell could whine any longer, a black nail covered the reaper's lips. "I'm going. Patience," he said with his rare trace of seriousness. The mortician rocked in and out of Grell at a slow pace, but Grell's persistant bucking against him only served to ruin his efforts. If the redhead was going to be like that, who was he to deny some speed?

Undertaker started to move faster, and the redhead started to give out hot moans of desire, his red-painted nails digging into Undertaker's back. "Ahh~ Un... Un~der... Underta~aker!" Grell warbled, before biting down on the mortician's shoulder.

"Ah-! Damn, Grell!" Undeertaker complained in the mixture of pain and pleasure, his black nails scratching down Grell's chest, pricking the sensitive nubs on it and only making things better for the redhead. "Mm...!"

"Mm! Hmm~!" Grell cried out, his lips stretching into a grin even as he dug his teeth into the mortician's shoulder. He was vaguely aware of the blood dripping into his mouth, focusing only at the nails that dug into his own chest. This was just how he liked it.

"Get...! Hah... off... of... my...!" Undertaker panted, "shoulder! Gods damn it!"

"Mm hm...," Grell mumbled, not even close to understanding what the elder male was saying. Undertaker groaned, and gave a few sharper thrusts, before hitting Grell's prostate as he gave a somewhat awkward one. "Ah-! Undertaker!" Grell shrieked, his red nails digging into the other's back as he released Undertaker's bludgeoned shoulder. The mortician sighed in relief, before gasping as the teeth were lodged into his other shoulder.  
That figured.

"Grell, let go," Undertaker panted. "I'm close."  
The redhead reluctantly released his fearsome hold, and Undertaker sacrificed his lips to the wild-eyed reaper, bringing his hands down and holding Grell's hips to help him move, the pleasure building inside his groin at a rapid pace. "Hah! Hahh, Undertaker!" Grell cried against the mortician's lips, before arching his back high off the bed. "Oh, gods, Under-!"

"Grell...!" Undertaker hissed as he finally found release. The two of them were caught up in the heat of the moment, holding each other close as the amazing pleasure finally came to a close. Their damp, heaving bodies collapsed, and Undertaker slowly pulled out of his lover, exhausted. "Dust of fresh wounds wouldn't be very good, m'dear... let's move... wouldn't you like to...?"

He looked back at the redhead, to see that Grell had passed right out, and he smiled.  
"Good night, m'dear."

The next morning, Undertaker and Grell woke up both sore and looking as though they'd both been mauled by wild animals, and they quietly agreed to tell William that they had had a picnic that had gone horribly wrong.  
Only to find him and Ronald in a similar state.

-End-

Pfft! Oh, my, that was fun.

AN: And there you have it my dears! Read and review, and let my friend know what you think?


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